Touch

by Camille Picott

  “I was hoping for more of a challenge.” Maia slides the syringe back into her boot.

  “Mission accomplished,” Gun replies. “That’s all that matters.” Another week with Andrea for the sake of appearances, then he can finally get rid of her.

  Maia and Gun spend the rest of the day at the Thompson penthouse. They call a doctor to look after Hardon’s head wound. When Andrea wakes up, she finds herself cradled in Gun’s lap. He smiles down at her, smoothing hair back from her forehead. He relates the story of an indulgent afternoon soiled by a mysterious drone attack, and of Maia’s rescue by her family’s loyal attendant, Hardon.

  Gun will be able to look at himself in the mirror tomorrow. He accomplished his father’s mission without ruining the life of a decent man or hurting kids. Someday, he plans to come clean with Sulan. When that day comes, he wants her to see someone that isn’t total slime.

  10

  Brunch

  “You do know we lost, right?” Gun asks.

  Sulan walks beside him, a bounce in her step. Her face is radiant. “Yeah, I know,” she replies with a cheerful smile. “But we gave them a run for their money.”

  Tonight had been their first official competition. “That’s not entirely accurate,” he replies. They got their asses handed to them by the Dread Twins. Gun gave them explicit instructions not to hold back. Sulan would never forgive him if she found out he rigged their competitions. Besides, she was serious about training, and he was serious about teaching her.

  “We got trounced,” Sulan amends. “But it was fun. I’d rather lose all day here than—than—” She falters. Gun pretends not to notice, although he can surmise what she’s thinking.

  She’d rather lose in the Cube than excel at VHS. She’d rather be mediocre at fighting than excellent at math.

  “I’d rather lose here than be stuck in my apartment doing homework,” she says. “And I learned something important.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I need more practice with throwing knives.” She halts, spinning to face him. “Do you have any Vex gadgets to help me train for that? You know, something nifty like the Marstons?”

  He loves the fact that Sulan gets a kick out of geeky Vex gadgets. She doesn’t like him because he’s William Gunther Anderson, Junior, heir to Anderson Arms. She sees more of the real him than most people, and she accepts him. Other than Nate and his sister, Gun can’t name anyone else who sees beyond the family name.

  Except she doesn’t know who your family is, a small voice in the back of his mind whispers.

  Gun ignores the voice. Other than his identity, he hasn’t lied to Sulan. Not really. He hasn’t used her for the benefit of Anderson Arms—looking for a connection between the League and Global doesn’t count—and he hasn’t tried to recruit her.

  “I think I can come up with something to help you improve your knife-throwing skills,” Gun says, unable to keep himself from smiling. “I don’t suppose you have a good place to practice in the real-world?”

  She grimaces. “I can’t exactly throw kitchen cleavers around. Mom would freak if she caught me with any of her merc knives.”

  They reach their locker room. He pauses just inside, watching as Sulan pulls off her various weapons and stashes them in the lockers.

  It’s late. He should go back to the real-world and get some sleep. He has to break up with Andrea tomorrow.

  But he doesn’t want to leave. He wants more time with Sulan.

  “Do you have any more time tonight?” he asks. “I can show you a few tricks.”

  “I’d love that.” She beams up at him. “You are the best big brother I could have ever asked for.”

  He falls silent. Big brother. He has no one to blame but himself. Why had he ever—ever—thought using a sibling analogy was a good idea? He’d been woefully off-balance that day.

  I’m an idiot.

  “Here.” Sulan holds out a bright green Touch pill. “Do you need one to help me?”

  He doesn’t, but he nods and takes the pill anyway. He’s gotten used to being able to touch her during their training sessions.

  “Training room eighty-nine is open,” Sulan says, scrolling through the tablet mounted on the wall near the door.

  When they arrive in the training room, Gun starts his lesson from the beginning. “There are three basic types of knives: blade heavy, handle heavy, and balanced. Let’s start with the balanced blade. Once you get the hang of that, we’ll move onto the others . . .”

  They spend the next hour working on her grip and stance. Gun finds himself touching her more than he should. Thanks to the Black Tech, sensation sings through him in the real-world every time they make contact.

  As he stands there, showing her how to position her wrist for a long-range throw, he realizes he can’t get enough of her. When he’s not with Sulan, he’s thinking about her. When he’s with her, he never wants to leave.

  There hasn’t been a girl in his life who hasn’t fallen into one of two categories: conquest or mission. It hadn’t occurred to him there could be more to it.

  What does this mean?

  “Gun?” Sulan frowns at him. “You okay?”

  He forces himself to step away from her. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just tired.”

  “Let’s call it quits for tonight. Meet you tomorrow?”

  “Yeah.” He needs to get away from her and clear his head. To think things through. “See you tomorrow, Short Stuff.”

  As he fades out of Vex, the last thing he sees is her smile.

  ***

  Every Sunday, the Anderson family has brunch together. Nate joins them, along with Maia’s personal assistant, Tracie.

  His father makes it a point to come to brunch in his silk pajamas. As if to prove to this should be a relaxing event, which it isn’t. His mother, at least, gets dressed, even if she only wears jeans and a T-shirt. Margaret Anderson manages to make a relaxed outfit look stylish.

  “Maia, what’s the status of your projects?” Anderson asks, dousing his waffles with syrup.

  Maia spoons fresh strawberries onto her plate, pausing only to pass the bowl to Tracie. “I got an invite to Claudine Winn’s virtual birthday party.” She raises both eyebrows at Gun, eyes glinting mischievously. “The invite is plus one.”

  Gun snorts. “Maybe you should take Dad.”

  His father doesn’t find this funny. “You should go, son. Mend fences with Claudine. You know she’s always had a thing for you.”

  “She blames me for her accident.”

  “No, she doesn’t.”

  “Yes, she does.”

  “You’re going to the party.”

  “Fine.” Gun pushes his plate away, appetite gone.

  Maia elbows him in the ribs. “It’ll be fun. I promise.”

  He glares at her.

  “That’s enough talk of the Winns for today,” Margaret says. “Gun, how is the Thompson project coming along?”

  “Hardon has been implanted with nanobots,” Gun says. “Everything he sees and hears is being recorded.”

  “You wasted a perfectly good drone in the operation,” his father comments, spearing a waffle piece.

  “I got the job done,” Gun replies coldly. “Are you questioning my methods?”

  “I’m only noting that if you’d resorted to more conventional methods, you could have saved the family a perfectly good drone.”

  “It was an obsolete model.” Gun stabs his waffle piece, though all he does is push it around his plate. “Take it out of my allowance if you have a problem with it.”

  Anderson puts his fork down, mouth tightening. “Don’t get soft, son. This company needs you. If you’re going to lead someday, you have to be strong. You have to be able to make the tough decisions and do what needs doing.”

  Gun tosses his fork on his plate. “I got the job done, and I did it without hurting anyone. I’m not going to apologize for that.”

  “Nor should you.” His mother intercedes, resting a hand on her hu
sband’s arm. “It was a job well done.” She gives Anderson a tight look. “I think Gun has proven that he doesn’t need to be micromanaged, William.”

  His father grunts and resumes eating.

  “How’s Andrea these days?” Maia asks, voice a little too chipper. The look she shoots Gun is a warning not to goad their father.

  “We broke up a few days ago.” For his sister’s sake, Gun pulls his plate back and takes a bite. “I had exactly two champagne bottles hurled at my head.”

  “How are things progressing with the VHS student?” Anderson asks.

  Gun is ready for this. He makes a point of looking his father in the eye when he answers.

  “Too mousy,” Gun says. “Even if I did convince her to work for us, she’s too skittish. She’ll just get caught and expose us. I planted some Lice on her, but the Global malware devours them.” He flicks a glance across the table at his friend. “Nate is looking into a method to get past them.”

  Nate nods in affirmation.

  His father takes a long drink of coffee. “Good thing you’re going to Claudine’s party. That will be a good time to get some data on Global firewalls.”

  Gun nods, annoyed he hadn’t thought of this himself. He would have, if his father hadn’t been at him since he walked in the door.

  “It’s a good idea,” Nate says, coming to Gun’s rescue. “I’ll have the Bifocals ready in time.”

  Gun flicks Nate a grateful glance before burying his face in his coffee cup.

  ***

  “I was right. You do have a thing for the Hom girl,” Nate declares as soon as brunch is over and the two of them are alone in the study. “You’ve got it bad.”

  Gun turns away, not wanting his friend to see his face.

  “Don’t be embarrassed,” Nate says. “You’re talking to the person who cleaned up your puke the first time you snuck brandy out of your father’s liquor cabinet. Come on, fess up.”

  Gun wipes all emotion from his face. “Yes, I like her.” It is hard to admit. Confessing it to his best friend makes it all the more real and uncomfortable.

  “I knew it!” Nate crows. He grins. “Are you going to ask her out?”

  “I don’t know. I wouldn’t know where to take her.” That’s a complete lie. He can think of a dozen places he’d like to take her, but they’re all in the real-world. That’s not an option. If she finds out who he really is, he’ll lose her. He knows this as certainly as he knows his shoe size.

  “That’s crap. Tell me about her.”

  “I don’t need dating advice from you. I think I’ve proven myself to be sufficient.”

  Nate rolls his eyes. “You’re good at hunting women. That’s not the same thing as dating someone. Tell me about her.”

  “She’s smart. Fierce and determined. She’d rather fight than do math. She feels trapped at VHS.”

  Nate slaps his hand on one knee. “Got it. I know the perfect thing. Give me forty-eight hours. I’ll build a perfect Vex site for your first date.”

  “That’s not a good idea—”

  “Of course it is.” Nate flips open his tablet and begins to work, fingers flying over the screen.

  ***

  “This is a birthday party, you idiot,” Maia says.

  “It’s a mission,” Gun replies. “In case you missed the conversation at the end of brunch, I have an assignment.”

  “Fine, have it your way.” Maia sighs, kicking off her shoes and crossing her legs on the sofa. She’s dressed in a black velour sweat suit that hugs all her curves. Unlike a most of the women Gun knows, her beauty is one hundred percent real. No augments, no body sculpting.

  “I have my own surveillance to do on the Hatch siblings, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to enjoy myself,” she continues. “Fill me in on your plan. I can at least keep you from getting caught.”

  “Dad just wants me to spy for general intel, but I think there’s a connection between the Winns and the League.” Gun outlines the information he has.

  As he listens to himself, he has to admit he sounds like a paranoid crazy person trying to connect invisible dots. He pushes on with resolution. If there’s anyone he can sound crazy with, it’s his sister.

  Maia waits for him to finish, all the while watching him with an impassive expression.

  “It’s all circumstantial at this point,” he concludes. “I need hard proof. If I can find it, we can squash Global.”

  “If we were talking about anyone other than Reginald and Claudine Winn, I’d say you’re grasping at straws,” she says. “But if anyone’s going to piggy back off a terrorist organization, it would be them. And they’re sneaky enough to pull it off.” She swings her legs off the sofa, sitting up to face him. “What’s your plan?”

  “Claudine bugs all the students. Every last one of those kids is being monitored twenty-four-seven.” He describes the spyware found by the Dread Twins. “Our Lice can’t penetrate the defenses, but Nate has a new Vex Axcent called Bifocals. They deploy millisecond bursts of code to hack through firewall camouflage. Each burst takes a snapshot of the firewall code. Once I have enough snapshots, we’ll have the intel needed to reprogram the Lice so they can get into VHS.”

  Maia’s eyebrows raise with appreciation. “Nate is a man with many talents.” She cocks her head at Gun. “Why spy at VHS? Surely you don’t think the students are part of the League conspiracy?”

  “The Winns have collected the world’s best and brightest minds under the pretense of training them to be the next generation of Global employees. Who’s to say what really goes on at that site? Global has a fishbowl of geniuses all indebted to them. I want to know what goes on at that school.” It’s just a coincidence that he’ll learn more about Sulan as a byproduct of this project.

  “I see your point,” Maia says, “but if you’re looking for proof that the Winns are colluding with the League, I think you’re looking in the wrong place. We need to hack Claudine and Reginald’s personal sites and Vex interactions.”

  “Too obvious,” Gun replies. “They’d be expecting that. If the Winns are in contact with the League—and I think they are—a good way to camouflage it is with the VHS site. No one would ever expect it.”

  Maia laughs. “So you obey Dad, get the Lice planted and gather intel on Global, and get to see your girl every night.”

  Gun stiffens.

  Maia rolls her eyes. “You might have Dad fooled, but not me. You’ve been different ever since you met the VHS girl.”

  Gun scowls. He might admit the truth to Nate, but not to Maia. She’d keep his secret, but tease him mercilessly if he confessed.

  “Whatever. Deny it if you want, but I know you like her.” Maia leans forward, face turning serious. “Just be careful, Gun. Don’t let yourself get too attached. You’ve lied to this girl and planted Black Tech on her. Those are not the building blocks of a solid relationship.”

  With a pat on his knee, Maia leaves him. As soon as the door clicks shut behind her, Gun’s shoulders sag. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to conceal his feelings for Sulan. But Maia is right. He’s done nothing but lie to her since the beginning. She wouldn’t even recognize him if they met in the real-world. How can he ever hope to have anything real with Sulan?

  11

  Birthday

  “Gun.” Claudine’s smile is as bright and as fake as ever. Hard eyes drill into him. “How nice of you to come.” Her avatar has an enormous pair of iridescent butterfly wings. Her dress is an iridescent gossamer that’s just transparent enough to make someone look twice.

  “Happy birthday.” Gun flashes his dimple—as good as giving her the middle finger, based on the chilly stare he receives in return—and produces a bouquet of flowers. “I wouldn’t have missed your birthday.”

  “Funny, I don’t remember sending you an invitation.”

  Gun decides to be an ass. She’ll be suspicious if he plays it any other way. “Funny, I can’t imagine you bothering to send out your own invites.” With one la
st dazzling fake smile, he shoves the flowers into her hands.

  As soon as they come in contact with her avatar, the pink irises break into song. They sing a song that blends Heard It Through the Grapevine and Happy Birthday. The flowers dance a complicated jig that involves leaf-waving and coordinated petal bobbing. The entire thing is ridiculous, and by the look on Claudine’s face, she knows it.

  There’s a calculating coldness to her that Gun scented a mile away the first time they met. He occasionally enjoys spending time with the women his father orders him to charm—if they’re not too stupid—but thirty seconds with Claudine was enough to make Gun’s skin crawl. Still, he obeyed his father and endured her.

  The night he caught her trying to hack his computer—after she tried unsuccessfully to drug his drink—was a relief. It gave him solid grounds to dump her, even though she tried to wheedle back into his good graces with talk of “combining their empires.”

  As if Claudine would ever share. She didn’t even like to share her ice cream or a bite of steak, let alone a multibillion dollar company.

  He never knew if the breakup infuriated her because it meant she no longer had access to his family’s estate, or because he’d dumped her before she could dump him. His family insisted Claudine always had a thing for him, but Gun doesn’t believe it. Claudine was too cold and ambitious to have a thing for another human being.

  He strolls into the party, ignoring the ice-cold glare directed at his back.

  The birthday site is an immense mansion, complete with tuxedoed waiters running around with trays of neon green champagne. This isn’t the standard virtual champagne; that stuff was just a prop to give avatars something to do with their hands. The neon green liquid means each glass is filled with Touch. Everywhere he looks, avatars are downing it. There will be mass orgies here by the end of the night.

  Six months ago, he would have downed Touch with everyone else. It’s what an idiotic, rich kid playboy would do. He knows he should keep up appearances, but he can’t bring himself to do it. He’s sick of pretending to enjoy this world.